


September. Part two. Waking up at Dawns.

by Sofyzin



Series: How Skeppy got his boyfriend to try out a lot of different kinks. [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex, PWP, Power Bottom, Riding, Smut, Soft sex, Top Badboyhalo, Topping from the Bottom, body worshipping, bottom skeppy, dom skeppy, sub badboyhalo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofyzin/pseuds/Sofyzin
Summary: In bed with Darryl, Zak feels like a prince. God even. Adored, revered, impossibly loved.But there is still someone in the world who is just as adored.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch, skephalo - Relationship
Series: How Skeppy got his boyfriend to try out a lot of different kinks. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011141
Comments: 7
Kudos: 330





	September. Part two. Waking up at Dawns.

**Author's Note:**

> If either Skeppy or Bad express discomfort about such content, this will be taken down immediately.
> 
> Enjoy!~

Usually Darryl is the first one to wake up in the morning.

More than anything, Darryl loves waking up at dawn.

Especially when it’s warm.

New day - new hopes, right? The morning is wiser than the evening. No matter what happens during the day, no matter what worries you, no matter how hopeless the situation may seem - go to bed and wait until morning. Maybe a new day won't solve all the problems - of course it won't! - but in the morning there will be a beautiful sunrise. In the morning it will be light, and you will see how the first rays of the sun kisses through fluffy clouds, and they turn red in response. Wash his feet in dew while letting the dogs outside; inhale the scent of the sleepy grass. And then have Zak whine about being cold when he touches him... his sleepy boyfriend. When asleep, Zak does not look like himself: confidence, and smiles, and his audacity, and the flaming, dangerous beauty disappear somewhere. Zak sleeps with his mouth open. He shoves when his own hair tickles him. Nestles as closely as possible if you stroke him on the head and kiss on the forehead, or on the cheek, or on the temple. He clings to the caresses. Smiles if Darryl calls him in a whisper. Throws a leg over Darryl, hugs him tightly, with both hands. He sighs in confusion in his sleep, rushes about - and calms down, as soon as he touches Darryl’s hair. Or his chest. Or should Darryl’s arms close around him. The world is beautiful. Worth smiling.

No misfortunes await him, besides the trolls that Zak will most definitely do, - there is simply no place for them in his new home. He is absolutely, impossibly happy; so happy that sometimes it is even scary. He was never so happy; how long will it last? When will it end?

And then he thinks: no matter how long it lasts, this happiness is theirs. If you have a month of happiness, and you don’t believe in such happiness, you worry and wait for it to end, you’ll spoil everything for yourself and get, at best, a couple of happy days. And if you believe, then a month filled with happiness will seem like an eternity.

Darryl is afraid. Every morning he is afraid, wakes up, suffocating from love - and he is afraid, every morning he is afraid, and every evening - he is so afraid of losing it all. Loosing his Zak. He can barely cope with it. But fortunately! —

Fortunately, every time he gets scared, he remembers: he is stronger than any fear. They are the strongest in the world. He has Zak. And Zak has him. If something tries to separate them, Darryl will not allow, and Zak will not allow, and together they can change fate, luck, and the whole world.

But there are days when he sleeps in. And Zak wakes up earlier.

Now Zak loves to wake up at dawn because he loves it when Darryl sleeps in. If Zak doesn't try to get out of his embrace, he won't wake up until noon; he sleeps restlessly, face buried in Zak’s shoulder or arm, hugging a pillow, then breathing out right into Zak’s heart, his cheek on the smaller one’s chest. He softer, more trusting, more relaxed.

Awake, he is...

Beautiful. Domineering. In bed, his every movement - even accidental - is beautiful, graceful, measured and honed, like a warrior or a dancer. Each of his smile is perfect, confident, dazzling. Zak can never take his eyes off him. Delightful! Impossibly seductive! A magnificent lover, such that Zak cannot live a day without him, wants him every evening, every morning, every day, but ...

He seems to be holding back.

Zak likes everything they do, but Darryl is...

Darryl does not let Zak... caress him. And it's just not fair.

Not that he forbids anything - Zak kissed him, undressed him, ran his hands over his chest, over his arms, stroked his back, kissed his neck; but it is worth clenching the skin on his neck with his teeth, or knocking him over on the bed, as Darryl turns them over, or intercepts a kiss, or interlaces their fingers, and makes Zak forget himself with pleasure, and then he is too exhausted to do anything. All that remains is to press his cheek against Darryl’s chest and draw patterns on the wet skin with his finger. And kiss where he can reach.

And Zak wants to kiss him whole, from ears to toes. Zak wants to kiss and stroke every corner of his body so that Darryl melts in his arms, becomes submissive and soft, like in a dream. He wants Darryl to be demanding, like in a dream, to hold him, demanding affection, to grab onto him and not let go. Zak wants to do so many things with him. Play with his nipples until Darryl loses his mind like Zak loses his mind; kiss his belly, spread his legs, leave bites on his thighs, run his tongue over his penis, from the base to the head, lick the head, take it in his mouth. Take Darryl in his mouth full, so that Zak’s lips ache from the exertion, so that his voice was hoarse, like Darryl’s.... when he was pleasing him with his mouth all night. He wants to feel it in his throat, wants Darryl to pull his hair and make him take him deeper.

(Darryl would have been embarrassed by how depraved he had become - and in just a few weeks. He was not exactly innocent but... he never felt such desire with anyone else. Where did it go? Dissolved overnight, melted like fog, like a crust of ice on the spring grass in the morning. Even the memories of it are gone. He seemed to have always been so - sensual and insatiable. His desires slept in him, deep inside, waiting for the one who woke them up. The one from whose one glance you want to take off your clothes. The one you want to kiss for hours; who kindles a flame in him with just one smile.

Darryl should have been embarrassed. But why should he waste his time on that? When he regrets nothing.)

In bed with Darryl, Zak feels like a prince. God even. Adored, revered, impossibly loved. Spoiled. His every desire will be fulfilled even before he utters it; his whole body sings from the touches, kisses, every time they have sex... every time they make love prayers are offered to him, filling him with inexhaustible strength, and in the whole world there is no one who is loved more that him. Who is so adored. Zak’s heart sinks from this; from this it takes away the last remnants of embarrassment. He burns from the inside when he thinks about their nights. Impossible. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

But there is still someone in the world who is just as adored.

Someone else who should feel like a god. Overlord. Who is loved so much that words cannot express it.

That is why...

One day Zak wakes up at dawn, kisses Darryl’s chest right above his heart, watches his sleeping form, and thinks:

"Today."

So Zak gets out of Darryl embrace, putting a pillow in his place. Darryl buries his nose in it; Zak kisses his furrowed brows, his cheek, and pulls a curl of hair out of the corner of his mouth. He melts so much with tenderness that he almost returns to bed to be hugged instead of a pillow. But he has to hold back. He has something to do.

And then - he leaves for a short time.

Just to the mirror. To brush his teeth and put some Vaseline on his lips.

He wipes off the rest of the tainted lip balm on his thigh - and blushes: it looks as if it was smeared in a kiss! He blushes more: he imagines how the Vaseline will smear even more Darryl’s pearly pale body. His Darryl. On his fingers. On his hips. On his lips - first of all.

Because when he gets under the covers with Darryl, the first thing Zak does is kiss him.

Darryl kisses back. Sleepily, openly and joyfully: the first morning kiss is always tender, like a freshly blossomed flower, the only thing that’s better is the last kiss for the night - when they both breathe heavily, and their lips hurt and tingle, when the kiss is tired, open, deep and hot - and almost endless...

Zak is in no hurry: he presses his lips to Darryl’s, lightly runs his tongue along them, kisses the upper lip, then the lower one, until Darryl is reaching for him, opening his mouth and letting his tongue in. Zak groans softly, surprised and very tender. He does not allow himself to moan like this at night. Zak gingerly grabs his lower lip with his teeth, pulls on it and catches another moan with his lips. He takes Darryl’s face in his hands and sighs.

Kissing him is like drinking divine wine. One sip - and you want more and more. Zak would have kissed him for all eternity out without letting go.

Zak strokes his cheekbones, the corners of his lips; his neck, chin, his forehead and eyebrows, eyelashes tickle the pads of his fingers as Darryl blinks awake.

When Zak pulls away, Darryl’s lips are red, glistening with Vaseline moisture and his gaze is hazy.

“What a wonderful dream,” Darryl whispers, pressing a hand to Zak cheek. He touches Zak carefully, like a vision about to fade. With his thumb, Darryl wipes off the smeared lip gloss from Zak lips.

Zak grabs his hand, pulling it over his head, and smirks as he presses his boyfriend to the sheets by the wrist. And he intercepts the second hand, that was sliding up his thigh, presses it next to the first, squeezes the wrists with one hand. He has to cuddle up to Darryl with his whole body. Fully naked, his chest pressed to Darryl’s and knees are in between Darryl’s legs, his nipples brush over Darryl’s nipples, and the older flinches, arching.

They are both excited. Zak had already woken up gentle, cuddled and still greedy for affection, and then looked at the naked Darryl in arms... and imagined the most shameless things before he forced himself out of bed. And Darryl is like that - from just one kiss.

Maybe he sees Zak in a dream too.

Zak blushes at the thought; suffocating and pleasant. Zak likes it.

He likes that Darryl always goes crazy with desire for him. He likes to see it. He also likes it when Darryl trembles under his arms.

Why didn’t they do this earlier?

“Zak,” Darryl breathes out softly. Tugs his hands carefully, testing Zak’s grip.

“This is not a dream,” Zak says, squeezing his wrists tighter. “Good morning. My Darryl”.

The second kiss is much more drunk than the first.

And it lasts longer. Darryl’s strong body beneath him, tense muscles, muscles, smooth skin, cool and glowing at the same time. Darryl is in his hands. Zak is in his control.

Zak likes it.

“Let me-“ - he whispers into Darryl’s lips in between kisses. “I want-“

He cannot finish: he is too embarrassed.

Instead of words, he kisses Darryl’s neck. Under the earlobe, on the shoulder, next to his Adam's apple, the collarbone, the soft skin between the collarbones.

Darryl twitches, as if out of habit... maybe he wants to turn them over.

However, Zak is holding him back — it’s so simple, too easy, as if Darryl — like Zak, every night, every time — gives in to pleasure. Zak strokes his cock with his thigh, smiles when he feels moisture coming out on his skin; bites the snow-white skin on the neck not at all painful. Yet.

(He loves it when Darryl bites him. When he doesn't hold back and then looks up at him with a glowing, dark gaze - while his tongue licks the bite. He always checks if everything is okay.

Everything is always just better than ever.

Zak just wants to do something in return.)

“Zak,” Darryl breathes out softly. He seems to have a special voice for the bedroom - a couple of octaves lower than usual, gentle, but a little dangerous, like the rumbles of a young tiger, and you don't know whether he wants to attack or play. Soft, charming danger is always there, but never dire. It makes Zak’s blood boil and his nerves tickle. It makes him ascend to heaven.

Zak loves him so much.

“Darryl.” Zak answers, covering his collarbones, neck, with delicate skin under his chin with kisses. “Darryl. My Darryl.”

Zak breaks away from the kisses - even though it's difficult, almost unbearable - and looks into his eyes. Darryl blushes under him and looks away, shifting a bit. Zak hates that Darryl is insecure about himself. He wants to show him how beautiful he is. How...

"I love everything about you," Zak wants to say. "All of you. You are all beautiful."

Love beats inside him, gets to his throat; but the words -

Words are few. Not enough. Absolutely.

Better to show by actions. This has never failed him. Words can be misunderstood, words can seem empty, meaningless; they can be mistaken for flattery, or for beautiful lies. Sometimes Darryl has trouble believing words - not completely at least, not as much as he should. Zak gets it. He knows how it feels. But hugs - and kisses -

You won't get it wrong.

“What would Vurb say if he saw this?” he thinks, stifling a nervous laugh when one hand is busy with Darryl’s wrist - he wants to caress Darryl fully. But Vurb is out of place in their bedroom, so he picks up a long scarlet ribbon from the bed sheets. (Darryl shudders again, pulls him into a kiss, they get distracted again, and Zak has to grab his hands again...)

When he ties the tape around the white wrists, he hesitates. On purpose. Just like Darryl hesitates every time he does something new, checking in: is everything okay?

Darryl looks into his eyes. Drops his eyelids. And his fingers relax - trustingly and easily.

Zak kisses the corner of his lips. Strokes the open palms, draws lines with fingertips (the life line broke off early, but then returned, becoming only stronger; the heart line is the longest). Darryl smiles and his fingers twitch from the soft tickles.

“Zak, I am at your mercy... Your Highness,” he breathes in a whisper.

“Okay,” Zak replies, a warm new feeling blooming in him when he hears Darryl call him that. He slides his nose along the slender neck, bites the earlobe. Smiles, feeling Darryl shiver. Interlaces their fingers. “At last.”

“Always,” Darryl responds immediately, smirking lightly. They did not even have sex a lot since the first time. What does Zak mean by at last? His little brat.

Zak kisses his open palms.

Darryl’s chest warms under his palms. But his beloved, looking away, with an awkward smile, pretending to be innocent again. “I did not know that it would be so. But next to His Highness I... "

When Darryl blushes, his skin warms. He resonates with Zak, his hands, his kisses; his whole soul.

He is beautiful, his Darryl.

Zak loves his body. He is like a statue of snow-white jade. Soft but defined muscles under the snow-white skin, arms, thighs, slender but strong; a flat stomach, hard as a stone, a navel pit, dark nipples, and a large, heavy penis with a scarlet head. He wants to look at him; He wants to look at him, for a long, long time, as the most beautiful picture in the world.

He wants to... lay him on the table, massage him, stretch every muscle, smear his body with oil so that it shines in the candlelight. So he would melt in Zak’s hands. So he would moan, head thrown back, and his silk auburn hair scattered around the table, sticking to the skin. And Zak would look at him as an offering. And then he would ride him. Long and sweet.

(Sometimes Zak wonders at his own fantasies.)

(And his heart sinks at how feasible they are now.)

For now, Darryl is looking at himself with pleasure. The bedroom is covered in golden, gentle morning light, the sun's rays enter even through the translucent scarlet curtain above the window, sprinkle gold on Darryl’s cheekbones, his eyelashes. The relief of his muscles. Get the sun is tangled in his hair.

“Handsome,” he says quietly, bending over to kiss his neck. “So beautiful.

“Ngh,” Darryl replies, throwing his head back. He blinks again, unable to say anything. Zak runs over his thrown back arms, from wrists to armpits, touches the traces of nocturnal kisses with his lips, kisses his Adam's apple, collarbones and shoulders, his chest, his nipples - not right away, at first blowing on them and watching them straighten towards kisses. Slowly, very slowly, touching the left nipple with the lips, first the upper, then the lower, then - for a moment - with his tongue. And again - with his lips alone, carefully, almost weightlessly, making sure that Darryl could not stand it and has to arch towards him... Darryl will most definitely get payback for this but... that’s good. Great even.

The right nipple hardens under his fingers; goose bumps running alone Darryl from his touch.

Darryl breathes hoarsely, biting his lip.

He is usually quite talkative in bed.

Zak smiles.

How interesting.

How captivating, impossible.

They have nowhere to rush - they have all the time in the world. He can kiss his boyfriend as much as he wants, and that is exactly what he does - nipples, hips, stomach, navel, ankles, knees, hips - until Darryl arches, begins to move about the bed, catching air with his open mouth. A couple of times he bit the ribbon on his wrists - and immediately threw his hands back behind his head. He still blinks, opens his eyes, but meeting Zak’s eyes, he moans and turns his face away.

He shivers. Fine, fine. Zak can feel his lips trembling.

‘Only I see him like this. He is my beloved. Mine.’ he thinks, and from this thought something dark, greedy, insatiable rises inside him

He clenches his teeth against the white skin on the inner thigh. Darryl groans. Loudly.

Zak finally wraps his hand around Darryl’s cock.

“Geppy,” Darryl almost sobs, as Zak giggles at the online persona nickname “… Zak. Zakzak.”

He calls him Zakzak in a silent whisper. He does so before bedtime. In the dark, when Zak is almost asleep. With one last kiss.

And suddenly, Zak cannot breathe. The excitement that splashed in him with sunny gold flares up, burns his heart, as if Darryl opened his chest and took him in his hands. He wants to hear this nickname again, and again, and again.

And he also realizes that he can't take it anymore. That time was endless - but now he jerkily rises, kissing Darryl on the lips, crushing them - wet and swollen from bites - with his own, drinking his name and moans from his open mouth, and reaches for the corner of the bed, trying to reach the bottle of lube on the bedside table.

(Kisses distract him for a little longer.)

His cock rides over Darryl’s cock and his beloved throws his hips up towards him. Zak grabs him by the shoulder, pulls him even. Even closer, even hotter.

It is pleasant, so much so that everything is floating before eyes.

But Zak is insatiable. He wants Darryl inside of him. Now

When he breaks the kiss and pulls away, Darryl looks at him with a dull look with desire. Hair frames his face - no longer hiding anything; and he completely forgot about it.

‘Good,’ the dark and greedy something inside of Zak smiles rather pleased. ‘Magnificat.’

“Zak... Zak, I-“

He settles between Darryl’s open legs. He removes the lid from the bottle, scoops up the oil with his fingers.

Heat floods his entire face from what he's about to do.

“Now,” he says, forcing himself not to look away, no matter how much he wants to hide the flaming face in Darryl’s chest out of habit, “I want you to watch.”

He is still stretched from their last night - his body easily accepts two fingers; he lubricates himself, exhales raggedly when he slightly touches the most pleasant place, but does not linger on himself for a long time - he is ready, and it’s a pity for time, and instead of his own fingers he wants something else - although, watching Darryl’s green gaze flare up and his pupil narrows, and hearing the crack of the stretched ribbon, he puts this idea aside for the future: to show Darryl how he caresses himself. How much he wants him. But now he does not have enough patience, his hands are already shaking from the restrained desire, so he forgets about himself - and focuses on what both he and his Darl want.

Before oiling Darryl’s cock with lube, he kisses the head. Licks clear drops of precum from belly. He strokes the head with his tongue, runs through the protruding veins, inhales its smell - sharp, intoxicating, dizzy.

“Z-Zak,” Darryl hisses, biting his lips.

Zak takes it in his hand. Slowly and steadily, where does such patience came from again? - the oil intervenes with his own saliva, and Zak strokes each vein with a thumb, leads from the head to the base, up, and back down. He squeezes the base with his other hand. The cock twitches in his palm.

“I-“ his Darryl cannot finish the phrase. Chokes on words. Can only moan.

Good.

“My boyfriend ,” Zak says smoothly, “is the most beautiful in the world.”

And, straddling his thighs, finally lets in Darryl’s cock.

From the pleasure - the impossible, the sharp pleasure- he has to close his eyes. Darryl breathes very often; his chest heaves under Zak’s palms to meet him. Zak squeezes his nipples - and groans as Darryl pushes inside him, filling him to the end.

The pose is great, and the view is stunning - and, Zak hopes, not only for him. At first Zak moves slowly, trying to get used to the sensation, every now and then freezes when Darl enters completely - so pleasant that he does not want to let him pull out later. Hair scattered over his eyes, tickles his forehead. He really should get a haircut.... he runs his fingers over his own cock - teasing, not caressing - and flushes as Darryl groans, licking his lips as he devours him with his eyes. But then the thirst takes it toll. With one hand resting on Darryl’s thigh behind his back, with the other caressing himself, he can no longer think about how he looks, nor keep a rhythm, nor hesitate, nor tease - he cannot do anything, only dissolve in pleasure. Darryl’s cock enters deeply, in this position it seems bigger, bigger, and Zak sits on him with a frenzy that he cannot get used to -

And he doesn't want it to end. Ever.

Dull crackling rings in the room and scraps of the ribbon fall on the sheet. Darryl’s hands grab his waist, go down to his hips, spread his buttocks - and suddenly it becomes even sharper, even better, and Darryl looks at him, in love, disarmed, shocked, looks with such admiration, with such a flame -

“Zak.” He calls him softly and...

Zak cannot his not kiss him. It’s simply impossible.

Everything lasts forever, but it still ends too quickly.

Falling on Darryl chest, trying to catch his breath and feeling viscous moisture pouring out of his stretched entrance.... Zak would not mind- he wants to repeat it all immediately.

But Darryl snuggles up to him, rubs his cheek on his shoulder, kisses his neck - his lips wet and soft.

“We're not in a hurry, are we?” Zak whispers, his voice... not completely gone. But almost.

Darryl kisses him on the hair, on the temple, on the edge of his ear. Closes his arms around him, making him more comfortable in an embrace.

“Not at all.”

More than anything, Darryl loves to wake up at dawn. With Zak.


End file.
